Really did not know where to leave this.
Making peace with Christmas
I miss Christmas.
57 Christmas seasons had passed before the 58th failed to arrive. I expected either a renaissance, or the termination of existence. I really did not expect Christmas would no longer matter. Living with depression makes the Christmas season a vulnerable time. You do not wish to spoil it for others, yet you have no inclination to enjoy goodwill. Christmas as a child was filled with anticipation and my family had the faith in Jesus Christ that defines the celebration of his birth. The exchange of presents was predisposed by the three wise men bearing gifts. Sadly, this spirit of giving degenerated into the commercialization of Christmas and war has tarnished the spiritual message to the point that I avoid any connection with any religion. Still, I felt the tug of goodwill and I participated with an increasingly jaded reluctance until Christmas failed to come.
Celebration of Christmas does not pass the test of logic. The very word suggests a belief in God along with the Catholic ritual of Mass. This causes general outrage in the Christian world when the secular celebration seeks to replace any reference to Christ. Even the date becomes something of a guess as the celebrations come around the time of the winter solstice and likely incorporates pagan rituals, possibly best illustrated by the Christmas tree. Still, should we choose to celebrate a life lived two millenium ago, it is logical that the mortal person in question would have been born and died. This would account for two of the 365 days we are given each year. Christmas and Easter may be as good as any dates. Tradition cements this. Outside the Christian world, neither the date or the event are significant. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny will take care of the secular crowd.
Christmas transcends Christianity. The best illustration I know of occurred in 1914 when opposing sides along the Western Front in WW1 spontaneously ceased hostilities and even celebrated Christmas together. Little known fact is that this caused considerable concern amongst the commanders who saw this as fraternization. This notion nearly qualifies Black Sabbath's “War Pigs” as a Christmas carol. In more recent events, I read where Muslim troops protected a Christian group from certain death at the hands of Islamic extremists. Meanwhile, North American Christian zealots spread their vile poison. I'm sure the war pigs made certain 1914 will not come again.
From Wikipedia;
Captain Robert Patrick Miles, King's Shropshire Light Infantry, who was attached to the Royal Irish Rifles recalled in an edited letter that was published in both the Daily Mail and the Wellington Journal & Shrewsbury News in January 1915, following his death in action on 30 December 1914:
On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day (24 and 25 December) 1914, Alfred Anderson’s unit of the 1st/5th Battalion of Black Watch was billeted in a farmhouse away from the front line. In a later interview (2003), Anderson, the last known surviving Scottish veteran of the war, vividly recalled Christmas Day and said:
So there you have it. A pagan celebration hijacked by Christianity, hijacked once again by commercialism and somehow inexplicably promoting peace and goodwill. All well intended, yet producing the most terrifying personal stress. How does humanity do it?!
I know those around me tried. The house was decorated, we watched Christmas movies Christmas dinner was shared. Christmas cards seem to have suffocated under the weight of social media, but a few still arrived in the mail and the odd text message of cheer was sent. Christmas morning came, but I still did not find any joy to displace the angst I feel for the human condition. No fat jolly red elf stuck in the chimney, no Christmas miracle under the tree, just a feeling of pointlessness. Even Scrooge and the Grinch had their renaissance. I did not.
Will Christmas ever return? I do not know that with any degree of certainty. I am not qualified to dictate the conditions for a return, nor am I obligated to accept the terms others may dictate to me. There is a heaviness of heart for the ghost of Christmas past, Christmas present seems to have given up and Christmas yet to come is uncertain. I do not fear the future as did Scrooge. I believe I have made my peace.
Happy New Year.
Making peace with Christmas
I miss Christmas.
57 Christmas seasons had passed before the 58th failed to arrive. I expected either a renaissance, or the termination of existence. I really did not expect Christmas would no longer matter. Living with depression makes the Christmas season a vulnerable time. You do not wish to spoil it for others, yet you have no inclination to enjoy goodwill. Christmas as a child was filled with anticipation and my family had the faith in Jesus Christ that defines the celebration of his birth. The exchange of presents was predisposed by the three wise men bearing gifts. Sadly, this spirit of giving degenerated into the commercialization of Christmas and war has tarnished the spiritual message to the point that I avoid any connection with any religion. Still, I felt the tug of goodwill and I participated with an increasingly jaded reluctance until Christmas failed to come.
Celebration of Christmas does not pass the test of logic. The very word suggests a belief in God along with the Catholic ritual of Mass. This causes general outrage in the Christian world when the secular celebration seeks to replace any reference to Christ. Even the date becomes something of a guess as the celebrations come around the time of the winter solstice and likely incorporates pagan rituals, possibly best illustrated by the Christmas tree. Still, should we choose to celebrate a life lived two millenium ago, it is logical that the mortal person in question would have been born and died. This would account for two of the 365 days we are given each year. Christmas and Easter may be as good as any dates. Tradition cements this. Outside the Christian world, neither the date or the event are significant. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny will take care of the secular crowd.
Christmas transcends Christianity. The best illustration I know of occurred in 1914 when opposing sides along the Western Front in WW1 spontaneously ceased hostilities and even celebrated Christmas together. Little known fact is that this caused considerable concern amongst the commanders who saw this as fraternization. This notion nearly qualifies Black Sabbath's “War Pigs” as a Christmas carol. In more recent events, I read where Muslim troops protected a Christian group from certain death at the hands of Islamic extremists. Meanwhile, North American Christian zealots spread their vile poison. I'm sure the war pigs made certain 1914 will not come again.
From Wikipedia;
Captain Robert Patrick Miles, King's Shropshire Light Infantry, who was attached to the Royal Irish Rifles recalled in an edited letter that was published in both the Daily Mail and the Wellington Journal & Shrewsbury News in January 1915, following his death in action on 30 December 1914:
Friday (Christmas Day). We are having the most extraordinary Christmas Day imaginable. A sort of unarranged and quite unauthorized but perfectly understood and scrupulously observed truce exists between us and our friends in front. The funny thing is it only seems to exist in this part of the battle line – on our right and left we can all hear them firing away as cheerfully as ever. The thing started last night – a bitter cold night, with white frost – soon after dusk when the Germans started shouting 'Merry Christmas, Englishmen' to us. Of course our fellows shouted back and presently large numbers of both sides had left their trenches, unarmed, and met in the debatable, shot-riddled, no man's land between the lines. Here the agreement – all on their own – came to be made that we should not fire at each other until after midnight tonight. The men were all fraternizing in the middle (we naturally did not allow them too close to our line) and swapped cigarettes and lies in the utmost good fellowship. Not a shot was fired all night.
On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day (24 and 25 December) 1914, Alfred Anderson’s unit of the 1st/5th Battalion of Black Watch was billeted in a farmhouse away from the front line. In a later interview (2003), Anderson, the last known surviving Scottish veteran of the war, vividly recalled Christmas Day and said:
I remember the silence, the eerie sound of silence. Only the guards were on duty. We all went outside the farm buildings and just stood listening. And, of course, thinking of people back home. All I’d heard for two months in the trenches was the hissing, cracking and whining of bullets in flight, machinegun fire and distant German voices. But there was a dead silence that morning, right across the land as far as you could see. We shouted ‘Merry Christmas’, even though nobody felt merry. The silence ended early in the afternoon and the killing started again. It was a short peace in a terrible war.
About Christmas Anderson said:I'll give Christmas Day 1914 a brief thought, as I do every year. And I'll think about all my friends who never made it home. But it's too sad to think too much about it. Far too sad.
So there you have it. A pagan celebration hijacked by Christianity, hijacked once again by commercialism and somehow inexplicably promoting peace and goodwill. All well intended, yet producing the most terrifying personal stress. How does humanity do it?!
I know those around me tried. The house was decorated, we watched Christmas movies Christmas dinner was shared. Christmas cards seem to have suffocated under the weight of social media, but a few still arrived in the mail and the odd text message of cheer was sent. Christmas morning came, but I still did not find any joy to displace the angst I feel for the human condition. No fat jolly red elf stuck in the chimney, no Christmas miracle under the tree, just a feeling of pointlessness. Even Scrooge and the Grinch had their renaissance. I did not.
Will Christmas ever return? I do not know that with any degree of certainty. I am not qualified to dictate the conditions for a return, nor am I obligated to accept the terms others may dictate to me. There is a heaviness of heart for the ghost of Christmas past, Christmas present seems to have given up and Christmas yet to come is uncertain. I do not fear the future as did Scrooge. I believe I have made my peace.
Happy New Year.
Comment